


Living the Dream

by Squidink



Category: Watchmen (Comic), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Canon, Sam and Sandra Hollis, it all ends in cats, no white picket fences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-05
Updated: 2009-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:25:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squidink/pseuds/Squidink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Sandra Hollis share a difference of opinion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living the Dream

"No, no," Laurie – now Sandra (but not really) – is saying, running a hand through her hair for the hundredth time and seriously considering taking up her nicotine addiction for the thousandth. "I like kids.  I like kids just fine.  I just don't want any."

"But," Dan— _Sam_ has taken up her hand, swept away with his usual zeal for whatever idea has struck his fancy before reality sets in.  If he wasn't so sincere about it, she might have been able to hate him for it. "But isn't it the dream?  It's—it's what couples _do_ , settle in, have kids…" he squeezes her fingers encouragingly, and takes off his glasses with his free hand to stare at her earnestly. 

Dammit.  He’s playing hardball now.

Sandra yanks her hand free, and crosses her legs, slamming her shoulders back into the couch rather than slumping. " _Other_ people have kids.   _We_ beat up people."

That shuts him up.  Sam rocks back on his heels, leaning one elbow on the coffee table.  He looks thoughtful.  She can't help but think that's never a good sign. "Not always.  Not all the time.  Think about it, the pitter-patter of little feet—"

"The saggy breasts, morning sickness—wow, you're really painting a wonderful image here." She starts to run a hand through her hair, remembers herself, and angrily yanks the offending hand back down to her lap, smoothing out her pajama bottoms.  In the background, the movie continues playing, blithely unaware in the way only celluloid can be.  A man is offering a girl the moon.  Sandra remembers when she stood on Mars. "It's not happening.  I'm not—I'm not going to settle in just because you got a whim.  I'm _not_ giving up anything."

"I'm not asking you to." It's sort of charming, how innocently he says it, but not nearly enough.

"Yes, you are.  You're asking a helluva lot." Sandra’s fingers knot in the fabric of her clothing, and she exhales sharply.  Good lord.  Couldn't he just take it in his head to upgrade Archie?  To install a lock on the door that doesn't give out after one sharp jingle?

"No, really.  I'll—we can alternate.  I really think I can— _we_ can do this."

Sandra decides to pull out her reserves, knowing exactly what it takes to crush that candid enthusiasm and hating that she does. "Dan.   _Dan_.  You're not thinking this through—it's not— someone will have to take care of it.  You're sweet – most of the time – but I don't think you could properly take after a _stray_ , let alone a _baby_." It's not even a direct reference and she can already tell he is mentally reeling back, recoiling from what they are so careful to never bring up.  To soften the blow, Sandra reaches out, and cups his cheek gently. "And I—I just don't want any.  I'm not a 'mom' kind of woman." She should not have agreed to go to the neighbors’ home for poker night when they just had that new arrival.  Should not have let herself awkwardly dandle a baby on her knee.  Most especially, should not have let Sam get that _look_ on his face – his planning face.  His sneaky face.

She has nothing against kids, really.  But she knows herself – all her sharp protrusions and rough edges and old hurts – and knows she isn’t ready.  May never be ready. 

Sam's bottom lip abruptly protrudes, and wibbles slightly. "What about… ever?" He looks crushed.  Absolutely crushed, even if the idea just occurred to him last night (at least, as far as she knows).

" _Yes_.  No.  I don't know!  I know I don't want any right _now_.  Definitely no.  I'm—we're just living our lives, _I'm_ living my life.  I don't want to hand that off for some maternal drive." Softening her voice, she grasps his shoulders to draw him up beside her, adjusting the popcorn bowl to sit in her lap.  He flops beside her with a sigh, setting his glasses back on their customary perch. "We're not exactly in a position to be thinking about this, anyways." Financially speaking.  Or otherwise.

"I… Okay, yeah.  I know.  I just…" Sam shrugs ruefully. 

' _Got an impulsive idea in your head and wouldn't let it go'_ isn't the right thing to say, so she merely smiles warmly and pats him on the knee. "It's okay, hon.  Have some popcorn."

"Yeah."

She wraps her arms around him, comfortable and resplendent in victory.  They stare at the television in silence, watching people pantomime life in a way far too tidy to ever be anything like reality.  Sam sighs again, and loops an arm around her waist, pressing his cheek against her shoulder.   Love, careworn and cloying and mundane, pulls tight in her chest.  She watches the vulnerable bridge of his nose from the corner of her eye, the soft, natural pout of his mouth.

She lightly pinches his side to feel the malleability of his skin, and only half-jokingly intones, "… Even so, _God help you_ if you were thinking of naming it Walter."

The pause is just long enough to be mortified rather than amused.

She squints down at him, jerking away. "Sam.   Sam, you _weren't_."

Sam laughs, a little too loudly, a little too rushed, and doesn't meet her eyes. "No, no— of _course_ not, don't be ridiculous." His smile falters. "Why would I even—I mean, could you even _imagine_?  No."

She gives him another long, flat look, and resumes her place up against him, still scowling.   He pops a kernel in his mouth thoughtfully.

"But you know it's a perfectly _reasonable_ name…"

 

 **Epilogue** :

They compromise, and soon after ‘save’ a mangy cat from some dark and dismal alley.  Dan attempts to bond with it, and it, in turn, attempts to eviscerate his face at every given opportunity and escape out the window.

They name it Wally, and Laurie pretends to not notice Dan wibbling whenever it lets him pet it.

**Author's Note:**

> Criticism welcomed.


End file.
